


The End Game

by ClockWorkSymmetry



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, F/M, Self-Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 03:50:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5191103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockWorkSymmetry/pseuds/ClockWorkSymmetry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, when I play DA games, I tend to play for romances first, then again for roleplaying proper. </p><p>I think, what would my character do, etc. In this case, Tabris just wouldn't be able to harden Alistair. At all.</p><p>Oh sad, etc, no love if he's made king, but he needs to.</p><p>Because BLEEP on Anora.</p><p>SO- Ferelden needs a martyr.</p><p>(Don't get me started on how elves are worshiped as self-sacrificing all through the DA series, yet absolutely no recognition is given- last Warden to end blight, last inquisitor, potentially current blight, but NOOOO everyone hates elves, UGH. It's sickening how much pity people want us to give elves! THEY DON'T NEED THE PITY *rants*)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End Game

“Alistair?”

He turned, and found himself face to face with Neera, and he smiled in that awkwardly strained way of his, as he nodded slightly, scratching his neck. “Hi. So…tomorrow, huh?”

“Yeah.”

It was quiet for a moment as he looked away, and she scratched her arm, while looking at the floor with great interest.

“I wanted to-“

“We need to-“

They both spoke at the same time, then stopped, and laughed nervously, then Alistair spoke again.

“Neera, I-“

“Wait. Let me go first. Alistair…I should take the blow.”

“What?”

“I…”

Her eyes fell. She had heard what Morrigan had to say. She had heard it all before, and could have seen it from the start, she could have prophesized it all. She was too soft for her own good, her cousins used to say. ‘Neera, you’re too gentle.’ They’d say as she’d bandage kids she bullied, blackening shem eyes, and grinning with a mouthful of bloodied teeth.

Too soft. Too understanding. Too knowing.

Alistair had to be king. She should have made him strong. She should have told him people needed to look out for themselves. But Ferelden needed a kind king. Because she knew their best chance would be to marry him to Anora. Who was more important- her relationship with the man she loved, or the rest of their country? 

What was one more dead elf, anyways?

“…I should take the blow.”

“But I’m to be king! No-one could fault me for sacrificing myself for the country-“

No. No, guilt trip him, it’ll work.

“Don’t.”

“What?”

Don’t fall on romance, he will too, you broke up for a reason, you didn’t want him to be hurt.

“Don’t. You would be faulted. And then there would be no point in fighting so hard. You’re more than a Warden now, Alistair.”

“I never wanted to be.”

“You see the evil in this world, don’t you? Don’t you?! Don’t you want to change it? Don’t you want to fix it?!”

“I-“

“You have that chance! You can change everything! You can fix everything! I would never have that opportunity, I would never be able to help people to the extent you can because….because I’m just some Alienage elf.”

“Neera….don’t say that.”

He looked sad then. Guilty. Good.

“Alistair…I…I still love you.”

“…why are you telling me this?”

“I need…I needed to. And I want you to know that I want you to be happy. And you can’t be happy if you’re dead.”

He looked at her, his eyes bitter, before he turned, inhaling shakily, rubbing his head.

She looked at his broad shoulders for a long moment, then left the room.

 

Ferelden needed a martyr to set things right.

 

And sod it all, they would get one.


End file.
